


Enough

by hyliank8



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Gaster signs when he gets upset bc it gets Hard For Him To Speak, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Light Angst, M/M, Prompt Fill, Sans is a sweet and supportive boyfriend, Sign Language, Stress, W. D. Gaster is not related to Skelebros, lil bit at the end at least, they're so gay guys they're sooooo gay, written 4 a friend’s b-day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24236389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyliank8/pseuds/hyliank8
Summary: Gaster's a bit stressed with his team's newest project.  Luckily, Sans is there for him.
Relationships: W. D. Gaster & Sans, W. D. Gaster/Sans
Kudos: 66





	Enough

**Author's Note:**

> wrote this for my friend who also loves sanster!!! it was for their birthday but it's a bit late bc my motivation is so fickle >.< they wanted some hurt/comfort w/ some cuddling, so i did my best to deliver  
> u might notice gaster is a lil bit different than how i normally write him 'cause i tried to make him a lil more similar to my friend's gaster ehehe  
> @ my friend: happy belated birthday!!! :p  
> @ everyone else: i hope u enjoy something tht is not quite as painful 4 once!!!! hehe

Sans lets out a tired yawn as he taps his knuckles on the door to Gaster’s office, careful not to spill the hot cup of decaffeinated coffee on himself as he does. He enters without waiting for a response, far too tired to stand outside for permission to enter and knowing that Gaster never minds when he walks in regardless. 

For all he knows, Gaster could be asleep at his desk anyways. It wouldn't be the first time.

Upon opening the door, Sans finds that Gaster is in fact not asleep, but is instead standing over his desk with his hands resting on its surface, hunched over the raw data of their latest experiments. Gaster doesn’t look up from his position when Sans enters, staring intently down at the papers covering almost every inch of space on his desk, his eyelights racing across the pages.

“I brought you some coffee,” Sans says gently to break his partner out of his trance.

Gaster’s eyelights halt, and he blinks and looks up. Now that they’re locked on him, Sans can see that his eyelights look hazy—one of his telltale signs that he’s exhausted. It pulls at Sans’ soul to see him so tired, yet still working himself so hard—all without a second thought to his own health. 

“Oh, Sans,” Gaster says, his voice laced with exhaustion. “Hello. I didn’t hear you come in,”

“figured.” Sans approaches his desk and sets the coffee cup on a small portion of it that is unoccupied by the seemingly endless pages of experiment results.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Gaster says, blinking hard as if realizing for the first time how truly drained he is. “I believe I am in need of it.”  
  
“actually, it’s uh… decaf,” Sans admits sheepishly. Bringing decaf is often his unspoken signal to his partner that he ought to start winding his work down for the night.

There’s a twitch in Gaster’s brow before his expression goes back to its neutral, carefully composed state, and he sighs lightly. “Sans… I appreciate the gesture, but I have far too much to get done to consider resting now.”

“ ‘dings, you’ve done a lot of work today. you’ve been working so hard for the past few days—won’t you rest, just for a bit? when’s the last time you slept, or had an actual meal?”

Gaster blinks. His expression remains carefully blank, tired but pointedly resolute. “That doesn’t matter.” He says, his voice quiet.

Sans sighs. “yes it _does_ matter, c’mon—despite what everyone, including you, may think, i know you’re not a machine.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, Sans” Gaster repeats, more insistent, less quiet this time. The emotionless expression cracks ever-so-slightly, a desperation shining in his eyes. “Can’t you see? I have _work_ to do, I have to—” The edge of his voice wavers.

Sans’ natural grin strains, but he stays in his place despite the worry spiking in his soul; he knows Gaster prefers to remain in control of his emotions, and it’s easier for him to do that when Sans remains calm for him. A part of Sans’ mind reflects that it’s probably not healthy for him to allow his boyfriend to deal with his emotions in that way, but he tries to shove that thought aside for now.

Gaster is silent for a moment, visibly trying to recompose himself as Sans mentally kicks himself for not noticing sooner the extent to which Gaster has been working himself. Gaster always gets like this when he’s been working for too long, and _usually_ Sans is able to catch it before it gets out of hand. But clearly, this is one of the times he’s failed. He tries not to think about how bad it could have gotten if he had waited longer—the memories of his failure haunt him; his boyfriend’s sleeves, pulled back to reveal his forearms for once, the thin, bloody lines that litter his inner arms, the guilty tears in his eyes that join his hopeless expression as though he’d done something horribly wrong by burdening Sans with the knowledge of his self-destructive habits.

Sans resists the urge to shake his head to clear his mind of the mental image.

“I can’t rest right now,” Gaster tries again. “We should be so _close_ to finishing this, and I can’t—I feel like the answer is right in front of me and I _can’t_ —” His voice cracks, and Sans finally gives into the urge to rush to his side, to place a gentle hand on his upper arm.

“hey, hey,” Sans says soothingly, lightly caressing his partner's arm with his thumb—he hopes that the sensation provides the stability that Gaster usually appreciates when being touched. Sans searches out his boyfriend’s eyes to get a read on what he could possibly be thinking, but Gaster’s gaze is aimed off to one side, subtly avoiding eye contact and preventing Sans from getting a clue. “c’mon ‘dings, it’s okay. you’re working yourself so hard, no one could possibly expect you to—”

Gaster jerks his hands up in front of him, and Sans is cut off in surprise by the sudden movement. When he begins to sign, Sans automatically retracts his hand to give his lover space to communicate. 

_But it‘s not_ _enough_ , Gaster uses sharp movements to emphasize his words, his careful composure breaking. Tears well up in the corners of his eyes as he continues to avoid eye contact, and the sight pulls at Sans’ soul. Still, not a sound leaves Gaster’s mouth. He’s never cried audibly from anything Sans can remember; not even that one time when Sans found him leaned against the far wall of his office next to a near-empty bottle of wine, hunched over his arm with a scalpel in hand— 

Gaster continues signing with the same curt movements. _I_ _should _ _have figured this out by now, I should be better than this, I should have—_

“wings—there’s no _should_ , here. you’re doing your best, okay? better than anyone in the underground could do, that’s for sure.”

Gaster’s hands are trembling. _But we_ _still _ _haven’t found the answer._

“and that’s not _your fault_ ,” Sans insists.

Gaster’s silent for a moment, his hands slowly retreating to his sides. His brow is furrowed, though his tears have subsided—still, Sans can’t help but wonder what exactly is going through his beloved’s mind.

Sans places his hand back on his partner’s arm, repeating the same delicate movement with his thumb as before. Gaster’s expression softens gradually, and he leans ever-so-slightly into Sans’ touch, even shifting his gaze to look Sans in the eyes. Sans smiles encouragingly at the indication of comfort even as his soul clenches at the sadness he sees in his beloved’s eyes.

“i really do care about you _so_ much, wings, and i just…” Sans delicately traces a phalange over the patch of soft skin on Gaster’s forearm that he had pointedly avoided before. The area where he knows he would find thin lines of a white if he looked—recent wounds that healed into scars and left marks even paler than Gaster’s complexion. “i don’t want to see you tear yourself to pieces all over again over one of our projects. you matter so much more than any project we’ll ever work on.”

The two of them fall silent for a moment. Sans wonders if Gaster’s lack of acknowledgement for his words is a refusal to agree or disagree—regardless, Sans can be sure that Gaster has heard him, at the very least.

They have a lot to work on, don’t they.

 _There’s…_ The tiredness is now clearly seeping into his signing, his hands moving slowly compared to the efficient, meticulous way he normally signs. _...so much to do._

“i know,” Sans agrees, his voice softened with understanding. “i know. but it’s really late now… c’mon, will you relax with me for a bit?”

Gaster looks hesitant, but he doesn’t open his mouth or move his hands to protest.

“for me?” Sans prompts when the silence stretches on.

Gaster seems to contemplate it silently for a moment longer before nodding slowly.

Sans smiles softly and takes his hand, gently guiding him over to sit on the edge of the cot in the corner of the room. They moved the cot in his office only a few weeks ago, and it proved to be useful so far. It seems to be the only way anyone on their lab team can get Gaster to sleep a lot of the time—and even then, Sans tends to be the only one able to convince him to take time to actually lie on it.

Sans sits next to his boyfriend and nudges him a bit to get him to lay back. Gaster gets the message and shifts his body back to rest his head on the single pillow, allowing his hands to rest atop his stomach. Sans follows his lead, lying next to him.

The cot is small—it’s not quite small enough to be a single-person size, but not quite large enough to be a double. Sans enjoys its size—it’s nice to have room to cuddle up next to Gaster, and there’s just enough room on it that he doesn’t have much of a choice other than being close to him. 

He certainly has no qualms about that fact.

Sans wraps his arm around his tall partner and nuzzles into him a bit, holding him close. Sans begins to stroke one of Gaster’s hands lightly, running a phalange in circles around the scar in the center of his hand.

“we’re gonna figure it out,” Sans says. “and if we don’t, it’s probably impossible, because we got one of the best minds there ever was workin’ on it.”

“I’m… I’m not—”

“you _are_ , gaster,” Sans cuts him off before he can protest further. “you’re the smartest monster in the underground, maybe even the smartest monster that ever lived but that doesn’t mean that the fate of our entire race is _your_ responsibility.”

Gaster’s mouth opens as though in preparation to retort, but closes it again when he seems to realize that he doesn’t have one. Sans wonders if that means he successfully guessed at least part of what was bothering him, even if Gaster won’t admit it.

They have a lot to work on, indeed.

Sans slips his hand into Gaster’s much larger one and interlaces their fingers. Despite the size difference, their hands fit together so naturally—like two puzzle pieces, made only for one another.

“it’s gonna be okay,” Sans squeezes his hand gently. “we’ll figure it out. and i’m here.”

Gaster nods silently, the movement just large enough for Sans to feel it.

“Sorry for crying over nothing,” Gaster says quietly. “I know it’s foolish to worry about things like this.”

Sans shakes his head. “no it’s not,” he says. “it’s okay. you’re working yourself too hard, and _anybody_ would be having a rough time right now. hell, most people would be doing a lot worse. but we’re resting now, and it’s going to be okay. you’re more easily stressed when you haven’t slept for a while anyways, remember?”

Gaster is silent for a moment, contemplating this. “...You’re right,” he says eventually. “I know, you’re right. I… thank you for being here, Sans.”

Sans can’t help the wide smile that stretches across his face. “of course, ‘dings—i’ll always be here. i’d be a _ghast-er_ without you.”

Gaster laughs at that one, and the wonderful sound sends flutters through Sans’ soul. It’s so nice to hear some life come back into his beloved’s voice. “That one was a bit of a stretch,” Gaster snickers.

“yeah, you’re right,” Sans admits with a chuckle, his grin still wide as can be as he looks up at his partner. “worth it to hear you laugh, though.”

A light purple blush settles over Gaster’s face while a smile lifts the corners of his mouth. Sans can’t get over how absolutely _adorable_ the scientist looks when he blushes.

They fall into a comfortable silence. Sans rests his head on Gaster’s chest and listens to the soft hum of his soul; eventually, the hum deepens as Gaster’s breath slows as he finally drifts off. _That didn’t take long_ , Sans reflects. He must have been really exhausted, maybe more so than Sans initially realized. That would explain how quickly he got worked up.

Sans sighs lightly. He’ll have to work more on getting Gaster to take care of himself, as hard of a goal as that may be. 

The gentle thrumming of Gaster’s soul coaxes Sans’ into a similar calm rhythm, summoning his fatigue once more as his soul longs to join his partner’s in slumber.

Sans finally falls asleep to the calmed, gentle pulsing of his partner’s soul.

**Author's Note:**

> this feels a lot different from stuff i usually write tbh so i hope it turned out ok!!
> 
> as always u can find me on [tumblr](https://hyliantimelordin221b.tumblr.com) and [ twitter (nsfw)! ](https://twitter.com/K8Maybe) i literally cannot stop posting abt these boys, it's what i do when i rly want to write about them but am not in the Drafting Mindset (which is like. pretty often unfortunately slkdjfl)
> 
> hope u enjoyed!! feel free 2 leave a comment!! i love readin em ^^


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